A Bit of Tailoring
by Middy Miles
Summary: Random fics and drabbles, ranging from fluff to hardcore action to heartbreaking sadness. I'm also now taking suggestions/submissions! Enjoy, and please R&R!
1. Ev'ry Day I'm Shufflin'

iPod song shuffle short stories, Leviathan Fanfics

Disclaimer: I Did not create any of these characters, nor do I own them in any way. Scott Westerfeld does.

Jump then Fall- Taylor Swift

"Honestly, Mr. Hohenberg, it's not as hard as you think. All you've got to do is jump." Deryn watched from across the crevice with mild amusement at Alek, who simply refused to leap over the gap between the two roofs. It wasn't that far, really, only a yard or two. Any airman could make the jump easily.

Of course, Alek wasn't an airman.

"And what happens if I don't make it across?" he eyed the empty space with a sort of suppressed terror, as if it were just waiting to swallow him whole.

"You'll fall, I assume. Now hurry up! Sneaking out was _your_ idea, after all."

"Yes, but I figured we'd just climb down a trellis or something."

"What fun would that be, you daft prince?" she tapped her foot impatiently, "We haven't got all night! Back up and run at it if you have to!"

He took one last look behind him and went a few paces from the ledge. Deryn hadn't realized he would make this skulking about business so hard. Life at the Zoological Society had been uneventful so far, and they needed an adventure. What better way to do that than climbing over the rooftops to spend a night on the town?

She readied herself to catch him as he took a running leap across. Deryn grabbed his shirtfront to keep him from tipping backwards, pulling him towards her. The two of them stumbled back, and he fell on top of her, his weight crushing the breath out of her in a choked laugh. "It seems I've fallen, Miss Sharp."

Clocks- Coldplay

Where could that girl _be_? The clock on the wall had drifted five past the hour, then ten. Alek was beginning to lose hope. Fifteen.

He sighed as the door opened and Lilit stepped through, followed by Dylan.

"God's wounds, that took long enough! What kept you?" he said in German.

"The printer stalled, and we had to fix it, Prince." Lilit watched him with a cool distaste, as usual.

"Aye," Dylan held up greasy hands, "Your Clanker contraptions aren't so hard to figure out. I twisted a few wires and it's as good new."

Alek knew the boy was thinking about what fabricated creature could have done a better job. He saw how Lilit watched him with a fierce admiration, and her cheeks flushed a little every time Dylan talked to him. Did the boy realize the way Lilit felt?

If he didn't now, it was only a matter of time.

Hey, Soul Sister- Train

Deryn could feel her heart beating wildly in her chest. _Calm down, you ninny!_ she ordered herself, but it did no good whatsoever. She hadn't seen her brother since she joined the airservice, and that had been over a year ago.

So she waited at the train station for him, Alek and Dr. Barlow waiting on a nearby bench and Deryn bouncing around almost as much as Tazza.

Finally-_finally!_-his train pulled in, and the hiss of steam filled the platform. She kept her eyes open against the sting, hoping for just a glimpse of him through the windows. The doors opened and people began pouring out, forcing Deryn to the side. Where was he? Her heart leapt as she saw a flash of blond hair, identical to hers, and she was pushing her way through the crowd to him.

"Oi! You!" she shouted at him. He turned and a giddy smile spread across his face; he was as happy to see her as she was him. She smothered him in a bear hug right there in the stream of people, tears welling unbidden in her eyes. Blinking them away, she pulled out of the hug. "Hey, bumrag." she said jokingly.

"Hey, sis."

Dead Man Walking- The Script

He was going to die. He accepted the fact. There was no way out of the situation.

The fire in her eyes had been the first sign that he'd stepped too far. God's wounds, he was such a _dummkopf._ But it was so easy to forget sometimes!

"Take it back!" she said icily. In some ways it was worse than if she'd been yelling at him.

"I didn't mean it, I swear! I just-" he swore in German. She had pulled her rigging knife out of her boot. "No, please, Deryn! I believe you!" he pulled at the ropes tying his arms together behind the chair.

The knife flew through the air, straight at his head.

_Thwack!_

"See? Told you I could," every ounce of anger had disappeared from her face, replaced by smug triumph. Alek blinked. No searing pain, no blackness, nothing. He was alive!

Deryn untied the knots and hauled him to his feet. To his amazement, the knife had sunk centimeters deep into the wood of the wall, right above where his head had been. In the center of the target, the "o" in "York" from the paper, _The New York World._

"I-" he was about to say he should be dead, but then he really would be, "seem to have learned my lesson."

She yanked the blade from the wall. "And what lesson is that, your Princeliness?"

Alek sighed. "Mess with Deryn Sharp and your a dead man walking."

If it Kills Me- Jason Mraz

He'd had enough. Seeing her as the avenging angel at the New Year's Eve costume party had been the last straw.

With alcohol buzzing through his brain and the message lizard suit hiding his face, he found her. He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her unceremoniously into the hallway.

"What is the meaning of this, Count?" she sputtered.

He pulled off his lizard head and looked her straight in the eye. "Dr. Nora Darwin Barlow, hear me out. I love you." he said the words carefully, deliberately, but with the utmost passion and meaning.

The woman stepped back, appalled. "Excuse me?"

"I. Love. You. I don't know how to make myself more clear, Nora. I love you!"

"Clearly you are drunk, Count. This is absurd."

"Fortified," he corrected her, "And there is no mistake in my words. I love you, and you love me too."

"I have a husband!" she yelled indignantly.

"But you still love me. I don't care if you have a husband, Nora, nor do I care if he is the most fearsome man in all the world. Somehow, some way, I will find a way to you, or die trying. I promise, even if it kills me."

For the First Time- The Script

The bed creaked under their combined weight. Deryn supposed it should feel awkward, being on a bed with Alek now that they were-oh, how to phrase it-seeing each other, but it didn't. Something about it just felt so barking _right._

He laughed at something she said and cracked open the bottle of wine they'd borrowed from the boffin's kitchen. He took a swig and passed it to her, and Deryn took a long draft.

"God's wounds, woman! This has got to last us a while!" he snorted and pulled it back from her. She fixed him with a challenging look and he shook his head, but drank some more anyway.

The night passed in a blur, the candle on the nightstand burning itself down to a squick. They talked, mostly, and before they knew it the first rays of light were peeking at them through the window. Had they really been there so long?

Suddenly she felt the burn of tears in her eyes, but a smile spread across her face. So this was love. She, Deryn Artemis Sharp, was in love for the first-and oh, God, how she hoped the last-time.


	2. I promise

Oh, no. Not here! Not _now!_

Deryn looked around the small dining room, the one that she'd gotten used to since returning to London, just to avoid the eyes of the boy on one knee in front of her. She was sure that she'd turned positively scarlet with embarrassment, but one small glance at Alek told her that there was no way she was redder than him.

"Deryn Artemis Sharp," he stuttered, "Y-you are the love of my life. It doesn't matter how young we are, or how old, but you will always be."

Deryn blinked and said, "Alek, I've only known you for-" she quickly calculated in her head "-seven months!"

"Really? Because it feels like I've known you my whole life. Everything before I met you-that wasn't _living_, Deryn. My life began the day I found you on that glacier, and lord knows I want to keep living this life. I look at you, and the world becomes infinitely better-Deryn, I look at you, and there's no where else I need to be. It's where I _belong._" He paused, searching her eyes. Blisters, but his were beautiful. They were shining, and he had that faraway look in them, but now they had an immeasurable amount of intensity, too. Deryn had never seen him like this, and it almost scared her. "I'm not asking you to marry me right now, Deryn."

"Then what are you barking asking?"

"I'm asking you to accept my promise. With this ring, I promise you that I'll always love you and only you. By accepting, you promise the same to me. Please, Deryn. I need you more than anything."

"Oh, Alek-" her eyes were swimming with tears. "I-I love you, you barking daft prince."

"So-?" Alek's eyes were wide, waiting.

"Yes. Yes, I promise," she whispered.

He barely had time to slip the ring on her finger before they were kissing, and they tasted of salty tears and promises.


	3. Fortify?

**A tribute to The Bonus Chapter and Art, posted to the Westerblog on December 16, 2011.**

Four people stood crowded around a table, huddled over cluttered maps and diagrams. They were all tired, worn out from a long day of hard scheming. The sun was drooping an eyelid at them in the sky, yawning as it fell into its place below the horizon. Alek watched it with a sort of jealous fixation, counting the minutes ticking by, waiting for the moment he could retire to his bedroom for a well needed night's sleep.

Deryn snapped her fingers in front of his face, "Oi! Have you gone daft on us again?"

"What? No," he said, shaking his head to clear it. A yawn was building up in his throat, and he was determined to stop it. He clamped his jaw down tight, and Deryn raised a single eyebrow at him, a talent he could never seem to master, and clapped him on the shoulder.

"We're almost done, your princeliness. Just hang in for a squick more, aye?" Deryn took a step closer to him, taking hold of his hand under the high table just out of sight of Count Volger and Dr. Barlow.

"Dylan is right. We must only finish part three of the plan before the evening is over," Dr. Barlow said.

"The evening is over," Bovril repeated. "_Mr._ Sharp."

Deryn shook her head and sighed, pulling the creature onto her arm. "What is part three, exactly?"

Alek blinked a few times to stay focused as Dr. Barlow spoke. "It is quite simple, of course. In simplicity, we must fortify the..." she trailed off as Alek and Bovril started laughing maniacally. "What on _earth_ is so funny, Aleksandar?"

Between his cackling, Alek managed to choke out, "It's the-that Volger-he-_fortified!_"

Deryn was staring at him, opened mouthed, Dr. Barlow had her lips in a surprised "o" shape, and the count rolled his eyes, remembering that absurd moment on the eve of the new year when he had been quite fortified, as he had called it. Alek continued to laugh, clutching at his sides, not entirely sure why exhaustion made everything so _funny._

"It would seem," Volger began to roll up a map, "that we are quite finished. Until tomorrow, then?"

Deryn nodded vigorously and towed Alek away from the table, muttering about barking daft princes the whole way to their rooms. Quite daft indeed, he thought, but at least Deryn's hand was warm in his and he was done thinking about maps and plans for the night.

He had more important things to think about at the moment.

**A/N: You may not have understood the reference if you haven't read The Bonus Chapter as many times as I have. A little background would suffice, I assume, so for you have have a small portion of The Bonus Chapter, written and owned entirely by Scott Westerfeld, to explain a little better, "'...Given that I am about to throw myself into a party full of boffins and secret agents, I would not call myself drunk—merely fortified.'" -Count Volger. Make sense now? You can probably now understand why I break out into insane fangirl giggles when they speak of 'fortification' on the show Downtown Abbey, or, much worse, when I see milk for kids that is specially 'fortified' (with vitamins and such, of course, but that hardly seems important.), or when I feel I have to write a somewhat canonical drabble about it. Hope you enjoyed! I appreciate any tips or suggestions via review or PM. Thanks!**


	4. Happy April Fool's Day!

Author's Note: Okay, you all will certainly be very confused if you read this without taking a peek at Mr. Westerfeld's April Fool's Day prank on his readers first. You can find it at: "http: / /blog /2011 /04 /goliath-reveal-2/" without all the spaces. The wonderful idea arose on the Blog that someone should write a fanfic about it, and so... this happened. I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own this.

This was probably the worst day of Deryn's entire life.

She'd always imagined that her wedding day would be the best, but, of course, in her child's daydreams she'd been marrying the dashing boy, not-well, being him.

Her secret was in danger of being discovered, and Lilit had offered to help. She'd reassured Deryn that Dylan getting married would dispel any doubt as to her-his-gender. It was all a barking mess, really, and she wasn't entirely sure how it had happened.

"Ready to go, Dylan?" Lilit popped in the doorway just as Deryn was pulling on her boots.

"Isn't there some rule that says I shouldn't be seeing you in your dress before you walk down the aisle?" Deryn asked defeatedly.

Lilit sighed. "Isn't there some rule that says I can't marry a girl?"

"Bu-" Deryn sputtered, pulling Lilit into the room and darting a glance down the hallway to make sure no one had heard. "That's the point, you ninny!"

"Honestly, Mr. Sharp, is the really the way to treat your bride? We shall have to work on that," she said drily, and left to find her procession of bridesmaids.

Deryn didn't even know anyone in the wedding party aside from Bovril, who was serving as the ring bearer. Of course she couldn't invite her own family, and when she'd asked Alek to be her best man, he'd refused, looking extremely hurt. She had thought he would understand, now that he knew her secret, but he hadn't spoken to her since, and that had been nearly a month now. Her loneliness among all these Ottomans was terrible.

Count Volger and Dr. Barlow would both be there, and Klopp, Hoffman, and Bauer, all in the audience. The only one of them that knew was Count Volger, and as she stepped to take her place on the altar, she could feel his cool, disapproving glare. Barking Clankers.

The organ began to play, and Deryn tried not to break down into furious sobs at her situation while all the people marched down the aisle. She had to pretend to be happy and forced herself to break into a large smile when Lilit strode in. The girl looked radiant in her dress, and her acting was flawless. She had the air of a woman in love, like she could barely keep from running to the altar. She gave Deryn a reassuring nod, taking her place beside her groom.

The preacher began his long speech, droning on about marriage, and Deryn's stomach twisted into a million knots, her legs shaking and turning to jelly.

Just as Deryn was about to protest that she couldn't do this, the far wall of the chapel splintered and exploded inward. From the space that had been panels of carefully painted wood and stained glass and a door, a giant metal stormwalker stumbled in. Squinting through the dust, Deryn could just make out the form of someone piloting the thing, viewport completely open. He looked oddly familiar...

Alek!

As the dust cleared, she saw his face. It was pale, pulled into a tight grimace. He held a pistol and a sword, and he was yelling. It took a moment before Deryn could make out his words.

"Deryn! Wake up you Dummkopf! You've already slept in past breakfast!"

"What?" Deryn pulled open her eyes to see Alek's eyes alight with amusement, his dark red hair a tumbled mess because he hadn't combed it yet. "I missed breakfast?"

"Yes," he shrugged, "but I brought you some." Alek held out a biscuit slathered with jam, and pointed to a mug of coffee waiting on the bedside table. "What in blazes were you dreaming about? You looked like were having a nightmare."

It was only then that she saw the cleverly hidden worry in his brow. She smiled at him brightly, trying to show she was fine, and said; "You don't barking want to know."


	5. How 'bout them Apples?

So you're probably wondering how these came to be. Have all of you heard of the game "Apples to Apples"? If you have, great. If you haven't, this will be confusing. My brother and I picked out four of the green (adjective) cards per "round" and had to write a fic about one ofthem. See if you can guess what the words are from just reading them :) I'll tell you at the end what they ACTUALLY were.

#1

Alek bit his lip. This was going to be harder than he thought. What could he possibly get for Deryn on her birthday? He had barely any money, and his first idea had been to make something for her—a card, or something of the like.

But then he had remembered that Deryn was an artist, and he most certainly was _not._ Anything he could make would pale in comparison to the simplest of her works. So Alek was back to square one. He sat in one of the high backed chairs in their hotel room, miserable. Flicking at a tassle on the stool with his toe, he didn't notice Bovril scamper in. It lept onto the back of the chair and down to his shoulder, startling him.

"Any perspicacious advice for me?" He asked, defeated. The loris's nose twitched, and it cleared it's throat.

"Be creative," it said simply, and Alek thought he saw it's shoulders shrug, if that were even possible.

"Thanks," he replied drily, sighing. Then it hit him, and he stood abruptly, knowing exactly what to do, and Bovril tumbled off his lap. With a yelp and what was possibly a new curse Deryn had taught it, Bovril stalked out of the room.

A day later, Alek led a blindfolded Deryn through an iron door way, grinning like an idiot. "Why on Earth didn't you warn me about the elevator?" she growled. "_Dummkopf,_" she added halfheartedly, not really in the mood to be upset with him. It was her birthday, after all.

Alek didn't say anything, just reached behind her and slowly untied the cloth over her eyes, letting his arms rest on her shoulders relishing in the touch of her soft golden hair on his fingers. He resisted the urge to lean in and kiss her, but he didn't want to ruin her view.

She let out a small gasp, taking in the entirety of the London skyline. Then she shrugged, "Nothing I haven't seen before," she said, but he could tell by her tone and the way her face was lit up that she was amazed. She'd always liked being as close to the clouds as she could get.

"Ah, yes, but not with such a wonderful dinner to go with it." He pulled out a seat around the table he'd set up earlier that day, perfectly placed for her to admire how high up they were—the highest building in London. Or, at least, the tallest one open to the public—and himself. The food steamed as the cover came off, and Deryn smiled.

"The potatoes are a nice touch," she said appreciatively, sitting down. "How did you come up with this?"

Alek just smiled at her. "I had to be creative."

#2

"Well, that's delicious," Newkirk said, his lip curled.

"_What?_" Alek asked incredulously. "How can you find that 'delicious'? If my English is correct—"

"Did your English classes teach you sarcasm?" Dylan said, not taking his eyes off the enormous pile.

Newkirk coughed and took a step back, waving a hand in front of his nose. "That is one big piece of clart."

"Well, what did you expect, Mr. Newkirk? The bears _are_ the size of houses, after all. I'm glad I don't have to clean that up."

Alek shook his head. "What are we even doing here?" His eyes wandered along the trail, stretching as far as the eye could see in either direction. He was comforted by the fact that the _Leviathan_ was moored a mere hundred meters away, ready to take them from the strange lands of Siberia.

"How old do you reckon it is?" Newkirk wondered aloud, ignoring Alek's question, and picked up a stray stick from the trees that surrounded them, poking at it. "A few days, at least."

Alek stumbled backward, thoroughly stunned. "Why would you do that?" He would never understand Darwinists, he supposed.

Newkirk shrugged. "For fun," was all he said, and turned abruptly toward the ship and picked his way along the trail back toward it. Dylan was chuckling a high tone, and when Alek turned his gaze toward him, the boy paled.

"What?" he asked defensively.

"Why _'delicious'?_ Of all words, why that one?" Alek shuddered, and the color returned to Dylan's face. He chuckled nervously and cleared his throat, leading Alek back to the ship.

"I haven't a barking idea, Your Princeliness."

#3

Deryn could feel the color rising in her cheeks, making her face hot. She wanted terribly to avert her eyes but couldn't bring herself to.

Barking spiders, but the boy was trying to _flirt_ with her.

Alek had his forearm laid awkwardly on the table, low enough that he had to lean over in what could not have been a comfortable position. The top button of his shirt was undone. A piece of hair fell over his eyes, and he furrowed his brow for a moment before he blew it from his face with an undignified noise that could only be described as that of an elephant.

"Yes?" Deryn asked, trying to sound more amused than embarrassed.

He propped his elbow up against the table now, running his fingers through his hair. "Hey, there… you." His voice was low, an attempt at being seductive.

"Hi." She replied hesitantly, and Alek cleared his throat, standing up and taking a slow step forward.

"I was wondering," Alek began, and when he voice squeaked at the end, he paled and cleared his throat once more. "If you would like to—um—have dinner tonight. With me," he added hastily.

Deryn let her mouth drop open slightly, her eyes wide and eyebrows slightly raised. "If you'll stop doing that."

"Doing—doing what?" He tilted his head toward her, gazing at Deryn through his lashes.

"That. Flirting." The word stumbled from her mouth unbidden. She grimaced, almost ready for him to scoff and deny it.

"Oh. Am I that terrible at it?" Alek asked, redoing the button and straightening his shirt.

Deryn nodded. "Hopeless."

"Well, I've reserved a table at that café you like for this evening, if you'd like to join me."

"I'd love to, Alek, just, please, don't ever do that again."

Alek smiled at her, hooking his arm around hers. "I hadn't planned on it."

#4

Deryn flexed her bicep. Alek's eyebrows shot up, and she fought off the grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"See it and weep, your princeliness," she gloated, admiring her own muscles. Deryn looked up in time to see him take a glance at his own arms, slight and thin without a few months of climbing about in the ratlines to have strengthened them up, even though she'd been off them herself for nearly a month.

"I guess I can see the appeal of an airman to a lady," Alek admitted, eyebrows slightly raised in amusement. "Quite masculine, I'd assume. Although, that's really not what I'm looking for…" he trailed off, waggling his eyebrows at her. Deryn felt her stomach do a little flip, but squashed down the feeling. A barking sod she was if that was all it took to get her insides twisting.

"And what, _exactly,_ is it that?" she asked. Alek chewed at his lip as though trying to form his thoughts into words.

"I think you know, _Mr. _Sharp," was all he said. Alek grinned widely and reached out for her hand, leading her away from the crowded courtyard of the Society and into a more secluded area.

Deryn raised her eyebrows as he leaned into her against the wall, his lips inches from hers. "Are you sure about this, Alek? I may be a little too _masculine_ for you to handle."

"Quite sure," he murmured against her mouth, and any reply she would have had was smothered by his kiss.

[Insert all your guesses here]

The words were:

Creative

Delicious

Flirtatious

Masculine

Hope you enjoyed these! :)


	6. Dalek Week

_**A/N: Hello, all! I certainly hope you all know about Dalek Week on deviantART here a while back, but if you don't I'll give you a quick explanation:**_

_**#Alek-and-Deryn, a group on the site, has an annual thing called "Dalek week" where all Leviafans (Haha! Came up with that name myself!) can submit seven "deviations" (Pieces of art, writing, cosplay, etc.) for each day of the week, all under a different, pre-specified category.**_

_**I participated in said event, and I did a mix of art and writing. I don't know if the art will show up, but I'll certainly make sure you get to read the writing! Here we go…**_

_****_**UPDATE: Yeah, so the pictures didn't show up. Sorry. You'll just have to imaaaagine them. Or go to my page on deviantART: lissa-molloy .deviantart **

Dalek Week 2012.

**Day 1: Parents**

The door closed behind them with a soft click. Light from the setting sun cast long

shadows on everything in Alek's room, much like wormlamps did, but in bright oranges and

yellows, not green.

But Deryn wasn't focused on any of that.

She reached for her prince's hand, feeling his fingers slide into hers like pieces in a

puzzle. "Finally," Deryn whispered, "Some time to ourselves."

"Mmhmm," Alek agreed, studying her features in the dim light. She pulled him in close,

leaning in for the kiss she'd been wanting for days. The curve of his lips fit on hers with a sort

of—

"Aleksander!" Volger's voice called from the hall. Alek pulled back with a start, face

"Mr. Sharp?" Deryn could hear Dr. Barlow at the door to her room, to the left of Alek's.

"Blisters!" she cursed, searching frantically for an escape route before the count could

come barging in. She rushed silently to the balcony, judging the distance between Alek's and

hers.

"They're like our parents," Alek groaned, following her. He bit his lip when he realized

her plan, but didn't say anything. He knew by now she could make the jump, easy.

Deryn turned to face him, surprised. "Parents?" she echoed, face twisting into a grimace.

"Barking annoying ones, then." She climbed up onto the solid stone banister, holding out her

arms for balance.

"Very much so," Alek said from behind her. "You can have them," he added with a

wicked grin.

Deryn shook her head and leaned down to give him a quick kiss, and then leaped

quickly over the open space and on to the safety of her own balcony. Her feet connected with the

ground in a solid thump, and she turned to give her prince one last, fleeting glance. "Dummkopf,"

was all she said.

As she raced to open the door for Dr. Barlow, she heard him call softly, "Love you,

too!" and smiled.

**Day 2: Roaring 20s**

(This one is a picture, so if it doesn't show up, sorry!)

**Day 3: Blindfold**

(Also a picture)

**Day 4: Summer Afternoons**

(Still a drawing)

**Day 5: WWII**

(You know the drill)

**Day 6: Obsession**

(Hey! This one is actually writing!)

All she had seen of Alek for the last three days had been the closed door of his office, a dark, fabricated mahogany barrier that blocked her away from him. She often found herself staring at the door these days, waiting for the brief moments he'd come out for something to eat, or, if she was lucky, to come sleep in their bed instead of hunched over his desk.

Her home—no, their home, no matter how little he seemed to be a part of it—seemed empty. The halls were occupied only by the ghosts of happier days, before the boy she had known drifted away. They haunted her, and many times Deryn couldn't stand the emptiness and had to leave for a few hours just to clear her head of the awful sadness it gave her. Deryn often wondered if Alek got lonely, hunched over piles of paper from the rise of the sun to the set.

No. If he did, he wouldn't do the same day after day.

Of late, their conversations were brief, a few words here and there that she grasped at, trying to pull him back to her, back to the life they'd had before. She held on to them now like she had her father's Air Gallantry Cross so many years ago. They were a piece of when she was happy, a snatch of blue sky on a cloudy day. Only, that cloudy day was looking as though there were no end in sight.

It was strange, Deryn thought, tracing small patterns on the door she hated so much, how she used to throw the words away, believing there was a never ending supply of them waiting to be claimed. The same had gone for smiles and laughter. They were just wisps of smoke that slipped through her fingers.

The backs of her eyes burned with unshed tears. She'd sworn to herself not to cry—it just wasn't something she did, and that would mean admitting defeat.

And Deryn Hohenberg did not admit defeat. Not now, not ever.

Her palms connected solidly with the wood, resulting in a crack she'd been wanting to hear since the first time the door had been closed instead of held open in welcome. The shock jolted up her arms, and a half second later the door slammed inward.

Alek, exactly where she had known he would be, nearly jumped. The papers fell from his hands, and he jerked around to face the intruder.

His wife.

Deryn still noticed the small details, like the way his reading glasses always tilted to one side, that one piece of hair that always stood up in the back, and even how his head had finally caught up to fit the size of his ears. They were the things that made him Alek, and that tore at her heart. Because she felt like she hardly knew him anymore.

"Alek." Her voice came out steadier than she'd thought it would. Her heart was pounding in her chest, the tears still waiting in the corners of her eyes.

"What, Deryn? I'm kind of busy right now…" he trailed off, as though suddenly noticing the now-disorganized papers on his desk and began to straighten them into neat piles.

Deryn took two steps and was across the room, less than a foot from him. This was the closest they'd been in days. "Don't be."

He didn't even meet her eyes. "I am. And I'm already behind on these reports, so I really don't have time…"

In the back of her mind, Deryn was wondering at the fact that he was actually having some sort of conversation with her. "At least come out for dinner." She was trying to stay calm, to reason with him.

"I don't have time. I'm working."

The anger bubbled up in her throat, spilling out in a torrent. "No, you're obsessed!" Her voice was a shout now, but she didn't even care. "Blisters, would you just look at me, Alek?" Deryn reached down and pulled his face toward hers. He hadn't bothered to shave, and his chin was covered in red-brown stubble that scratched her fingers. "Where have you gone?"

He looked puzzled, his green eyes clouding over, "I'm right here."

"No you aren't! I don't even know who you are anymore, Alek! You've gone away from me and become someone who doesn't have time for his own barking life! Don't you remember what it used to be like, when you went outside and we actually talked?" When we were still in love? She didn't say.

Deryn held his gaze fiercely, and in his eyes she thought that maybe, just maybe, there was a piece of him left. She pressed her lips on his, hard, the way they used to do. He responded, kissing her back, if only for a moment. "Alek, I miss you. Come back."

His mouth was slightly open, lips bright red and cheeks flushed from their kiss. He almost looked like his old self now. The light was back in his eyes.

Too soon, the moment ended. He turned away from her, eyes downcast. When he spoke, she could almost hear sadness in his voice. "I have to finish these papers."

Deryn could feel her heart stop. The world crashed in on her with those six words, and any desperate hope that she'd clung to that maybe he was still the man she'd fallen in love with was still there disappeared. He was gone forever.

She turned away and walked out the door of his office. She didn't stop there, just kept walking away from the stranger that looked like Alek. There was nothing left for her there anymore. The tears now slid freely down her cheeks.

Deryn Sharp had finally admitted defeat.

**Day 7: Generations**

(This one is actually a photograph of my grandpa, my mom, and I reading the trilogy )


	7. Merry Christmas, Darling

A/N: Hi! So, for this drabble, please completely disregard the fact that Christmas was yesterday, because I'm running a little bit behind schedule. So just pretend that it's still Dec. 25, and you got an update from Middy Miles as a present. Merry Christmas! (Or whatever other holidays you celebrate; I'm non-discriminant.) Also, be warned that my little brother/editor is busy, so this is hot off the press and not proofread super well. Sorry.

His dinner jacket lay tossed on the floor of the rented hotel room, two meters away, and a woman's handbag on top of it. A bit of mussed hair had fallen into Alek's eyes, reminding him at a very inconvenient time that he needed a haircut. He stared at the ceiling, trying to forget what he'd just done as his breathing came in shallow gasps.

"Oh, and merry Christmas, darling."

A pang of guilt ran through Alek's chest as he heard the words, because he knew he should be hearing them from someone else. And that someone else was just downstairs in the ballroom, probably dancing with men that weren't Alek and drinking champagne and...

He tried not to think about it. There were more pressing issues to attend to at the moment, and she wouldn't worry that he was gone for another few minutes.

A thread of cigar smoke swirled around his head, snaking up his nose and clouding his thoughts with the thick, cloying scent of burning tobacco. Alek refused to shy away from it, not wrinkling his nose when it lingered in his mustache.

"Merry Christmas to you, too," he replied, observing with an impassive face the empty room in front of him.

She stood directly behind him, Alek knew, both because they'd been exchanging tight conversation for several minutes and because she wouldn't leave him alone. It was simply too risky to leave such a... resourceful man unsupervised.

He'd made sure of that.

With a single click of a heeled shoe on the floor, the woman took a step and was pressed up against the back of his chair. The sequins that positively covered her dress scratched his hands, and he resisted the urge to yank them away. Another ring of smoke descended around him, further hindering his vision of the dimly lit bedroom. The deep scarlet silk of the bed looked almost as black as the beautifully carved posts that held the canopy overtop of it.

"You really shouldn't be snooping around in a lady's room, dear. It's simply scandalous."

"My apologies," Alek said, rolling his eyes. "But I have to ask: is the cigar entirely necessary?" he asked, ignoring how close the woman was, how he could feel her breath on his neck and how it made goosebumps rise on his skin.

"What?" she replied mockingly, and blew smoke down onto his face. "Does it bother you?" Her voice was right next to him, no doubt leaving lipstick on his ear. He could see the edges of her perfectly black curls, feel them itching his face.

"Of course not," Alek said, his mind working wildly. "I'm merely afraid it could... hinder the evening's activities. Satin is very flammable."

Snickering, she said, "It's a pity you aren't wearing any," and put out the cigar on Alek's shirtfront. The embers hissed, singeing through his button-up, burning his skin. The woman held it there just long enough so it would leave a scar, then tossed the dead cigar into the ashtray. "Now don't try to distract me."

Alek grit his teeth. "Forget I said anything."

"Good." Her gloved hand slid down his chest, reigniting the pain and freezing him stock still. "Now that that's settled, maybe you'll tell me what I want to know. What were you doing in my room?"

Pivoting around her hand, the woman stepped to Alek's front, giving him his first full view of her.

She was devastatingly beautiful, in a low-cut dress as red as blood and eyes the color of coal. Her black gloves slithered up to her elbows, and around them rings covered her fingers and bracelets her wrists. There was a long slit up the side of her dress revealing a single, well-muscled leg, and she scarcely tried to cover up the thigh sheath she wore or the wicked blade it held.

He acted as awestruck as he could, like he couldn't keep his eyes off of her, but instead he was furiously trying to untie the knots on his wrists, or reach the knife hidden halfway up his sleeve.

She straddled his legs shamelessly with hers and slid forward until she was sitting on his thighs, one leg freed from her dress by the slit.

"Enjoy this while you can, fool, because I may be the last thing you'll ever see," she mused, pulling out her knife and pressing the flat to bottom of his chin and pulling his head up to look into her eyes. "How would you like a shave? I should warn you, though, I'm terrible at it. I always seem to slip..."

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

Alek strained his neck to look around the woman with the knife, and sure enough, Deryn was there, in the only dress she tolerated wearing, looking not the least bit amused.

"Well, yes. But I was just wrapping up," Alek said. "I've got this completely under control," he added.

"Oh, really?" asked Deryn. "Because from what I can tell-" She cut off when the woman twisted around and slung her knife at Deryn, who ducked away and didn't stop to notice that it planted in the wall exactly where her head had been. "Could you cut that out? I'm trying to have a conversation here."

His captor's mouth twisted into an unflattering scowl, and she muttered a choice curse.

"I've got this, Deryn. Just give me a minute, and I'll have her tied up and ready for transport," Alek assured her, and the spy turned back to him, mouth gaping open.

"What? I'm the one that's got you tied up!" she exclaimed, reaching for a sharpened pin in her hair as she was now at a loss for her knife.

"Are you sure about that?" Alek quickly brought his arms around and grabbed the woman's wrists in one hand, using the rope that had restrained him previously to tie the woman's hands together.

Then he unceremoniously pushed her off of him, watched without pity as she fell to the floor, and brushed imaginary dust from his pants as he stood. Just for good measure, he took off one shoe and sock, and shoved the sock in the woman's mouth. "I hope that tastes brilliant, I really do," Alek told her.

Her only response was a glare, filled with hatred.

"See? I told you I had this under control." Alek gestured to the woman on the floor, turning his eyes to Deryn. He put on his shoe.

"Under control?" She sighed. "It would have been better if you hadn't been caught in the first place. How'd she get you tied up, anyway?"

Alek grimaced. "I'd rather not talk about it. She's a lot stronger than she looks. But I would have been just fine."

"Whatever." Deryn chuckled, leading him down the stairway and out the door of the hotel to the cold streets of London. "So I suppose that means we're done for the evening? I've been dying to spend some quality time with you. It's Christmas, after all. Why couldn't Barlow have called in someone else?"

"Better yet, why couldn't the bad guys respect it being a holiday and stopped doing bad things?" Alek demanded jokingly, because he knew that was just as likely.

Deryn punched him on the shoulder. "Let's get out of here, daftie."

His arm found its way around her slim waist, and hers around his shoulder. "Nothing could make me more happy."


End file.
